Pitter Patter, Pitter Patter
Last night, I heard the kind of pitter patter I've been dreading since I moved into my apartment. No, it wasn't Santa and his reindeer landing on my roof for an early delivery because I've been extra good. No, this was a most unpleasant prancing and pawing.
I have a mouse.
I was simply minding my own business in my kitchen, where I've been spending lots of quality time lately. Putting the finishing touches on a gift basket, I caught a flash of something dark against the nasty yellow tile floor. I turned to give it a full look and it was a mouse, scurrying out from beneath my fridge and heading down the hall--apparently as far away as it could get from me.
If anyone out there knows me well, they know that I'm terrified of mice and that I've been dreading the appearance of a mouse for quite some time. I live in a old building that's seen better days, so I knew I'd be susceptible. To try to ward off the little devils, I've put D-con in all the places I'd like to sleep if I were a mouse--behind the fridge, under radiators and the sink, in dark closets. But somehow this mouse missed my memo about eating the poison.
Anyway, there I stood in the kitchen, firmly frozen in place with fear, screaming, while the mouse disappeared in the direction of my bedroom and bathroom. So what did I do? Headed in the opposite direction, of course. I went out the door and found a neighbor who strangely didn't think I was weird for being freaked out. She came over and helped me check in dark corners and under furniture for the little bugger. No luck.
The neighbor left and I did what any sensible person would do. I sat in the living room, watching the hallway to the bathroom for at least an hour. Then I found a tennis racket and made my way back the hall, into the bedroom. I didn't see anything, so I grabbed some necessities and ran back to the living room, where I camped out for the night. After wrapping presents until 3:30 a.m., I finally sat down on the couch--with all my lights on--and fell into a sleep plagued with dreams of animals flying in through windows and taking up residence in my apartment like it were a Super 8.
I know mice are small and just as afraid of me as I am of them, but here's the thing: I don't burrow into their drawers, eat their food or jump out from under their refrigerators. I don't just suddenly appear. I don't have a tail or beady little eyes.
Right now, I feel like my apartment is under siege, like I've been ambushed. My safe haven, quiet little apartment has become home not just to me, but to the enemy. I don't go anywhere without my tennis racket or my heavy shoes.
The weirdest thing is that I never had any warning that I had a houseguest. Usually you see mouse poo somewhere, or notice that boxes have been gnawed or something. But I didn't see a thing. Just the mouse. (Evidence enough, I guess.)
I've got the poison out, but if anyone has any suggestions (except for a cat, because I'm allergic), let me know.
I have a mouse.
I was simply minding my own business in my kitchen, where I've been spending lots of quality time lately. Putting the finishing touches on a gift basket, I caught a flash of something dark against the nasty yellow tile floor. I turned to give it a full look and it was a mouse, scurrying out from beneath my fridge and heading down the hall--apparently as far away as it could get from me.
If anyone out there knows me well, they know that I'm terrified of mice and that I've been dreading the appearance of a mouse for quite some time. I live in a old building that's seen better days, so I knew I'd be susceptible. To try to ward off the little devils, I've put D-con in all the places I'd like to sleep if I were a mouse--behind the fridge, under radiators and the sink, in dark closets. But somehow this mouse missed my memo about eating the poison.
Anyway, there I stood in the kitchen, firmly frozen in place with fear, screaming, while the mouse disappeared in the direction of my bedroom and bathroom. So what did I do? Headed in the opposite direction, of course. I went out the door and found a neighbor who strangely didn't think I was weird for being freaked out. She came over and helped me check in dark corners and under furniture for the little bugger. No luck.
The neighbor left and I did what any sensible person would do. I sat in the living room, watching the hallway to the bathroom for at least an hour. Then I found a tennis racket and made my way back the hall, into the bedroom. I didn't see anything, so I grabbed some necessities and ran back to the living room, where I camped out for the night. After wrapping presents until 3:30 a.m., I finally sat down on the couch--with all my lights on--and fell into a sleep plagued with dreams of animals flying in through windows and taking up residence in my apartment like it were a Super 8.
I know mice are small and just as afraid of me as I am of them, but here's the thing: I don't burrow into their drawers, eat their food or jump out from under their refrigerators. I don't just suddenly appear. I don't have a tail or beady little eyes.
Right now, I feel like my apartment is under siege, like I've been ambushed. My safe haven, quiet little apartment has become home not just to me, but to the enemy. I don't go anywhere without my tennis racket or my heavy shoes.
The weirdest thing is that I never had any warning that I had a houseguest. Usually you see mouse poo somewhere, or notice that boxes have been gnawed or something. But I didn't see a thing. Just the mouse. (Evidence enough, I guess.)
I've got the poison out, but if anyone has any suggestions (except for a cat, because I'm allergic), let me know.
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